


Ace Dick, Seer of Breath

by loquaciouslass



Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, SBURB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciouslass/pseuds/loquaciouslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SBURB is meant to challenge its players into growing as people. SBURB sometimes gets an Ace Dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ace Dick, Seer of Breath

**Ace Dick, Seer of Breath**

**Installation:**

                Ace Dick was a man’s man; the type of man who worked 9-5 and paid himself in cheap hookers and an incredible amount of booze. He was the type of man who got right to the point; don’t like a thing? Punch it. Co-workers annoying you? Punch them too. He lead a life suited to his needs, which at present mostly consisted of using as little imagination as possible.

                Convincing him to play an RPG hadn’t worked. As a matter of fact, after three hours of bribery, Sleuth and PI just dismantled his phone.

                And even then, it still took a good two more hours before he was bored enough to install the client. Maybe that was a good thing though- him leaving it so late lead to poor Dame nearly getting hit by a meteor, which in turn sent her hysteria meter through the roof, and that meant a healthy supply of grist after she scream-chainsawed her way through every enemy in her house.

**Entry**

                The land of gales and hogs was vast, empty plains peppered with tiny settlements where consorts waited for their chosen hero. Ace arrived with a doof, landing in a pile of melons and attracting attention. Why was it always melons? He’d had to cut a godamn melon just to get in the stupid game thing, and finding a knife in his office (it refused to be smashed) was like trying to…do…something with weird puzzle shit and a metaphor. Yeah. The hog was squawking at him for crushing its crop under his generous posterior. Ace punched it in the snout to establish “shut the fuck up”.

                That called more hogs over. He punched them too. Soon the gales were drowned out by hogs honking and Ace punching them, the smoosh of melon providing a much needed cymbal to the percussion that was hogs smashing against the ground. Eventually, a hog elder came out, parting the sea of irate pigs, and settling in front of Ace.

                “Oh seer,” said the hog elder, “You’ve finally arrived to calm the gales!”

                “What?”

                “The gales! It is said in our prophecies that a Seer of Breath would rise up and show the way to calm the gales that tear down our houses!”

                “…There any hookers in that?”

                The hogs lifted him, chanting, “saviour! Saviour!” Ace flailed, unable to execute a truffle shuffle that could remove the hogs. Wifehearstsprite looked on, smiling. It was so nice that Ace was making friends.

**Strife!**

                The imps were effortless. The ogres fell in two hits. The liches took a bit more pummelling, sure, but it was still pretty pathetic that literally everything in the imaginary world had taken multiple sharp or shoot-y things before they’d drop, and even the big boss monsters here all seemed fairly content to fall over when he used some of those weird knuckles that PI insisted on giving him. Something about how Ace had managed to give himself fistkind as a weapon, rather than his guns. And yeah, that had been a bit weird how suddenly he couldn’t use a hairpin, but he’d put it down to shenanigans. Anything else was a bit complicated to work out, especially because wifehearstsprite didn’t seem to have much to say about this game that wasn’t cryptic as shit. Save that for PI, he eats it up. No doubt the guy was having way too much fun prancing around his little fairy world, or whatever.

                Ace opened up his Gummytop. Sleuth was beeping at him.

_PS: dick stop punching imps and check on dame once in a while we’re meant to be building these houses or whatever_

                He opened up a window. There was a lot of blood and screaming.

_AD: cant see a fuckin thing through the blood. the fucks happening in your brain to make her._

_PS: fuck off and do some questy shit you enormous turd_

                Well who was he to refuse? There were plenty of monsters to slay. Monsters always caused shit in these fantasy places, right?

**God-Tier**

Ace Dick was very nearly dead. The hogs retaliated against being punched repeatedly, and wifehearstsprite was nowhere to be found. His computer was beeping. Somehow, he’d scrambled up high to escape the army of hogs, onto some stone bed. Ace’s heartbeat slowed and his blood drained away.

                But in spite of doing very few quests, and in-spite of turning all the people in his world against him, Ace Dick had fulfilled all the criteria for an ascension. Sparkling lights filled the lands of the players, all stopping and staring- it was a beacon, drowning out everything in the sky.

                The seer of breath rose up, breeze whispering to him, telling him where to go, where his friends should go. Ace Dick looked at himself, free of blood and bruises.

                “What the fuck is this.”

**End Game**

                Everyone was together on the battlefield, equipped with enough weapons to make a small country jealous. The frog was prepared, the grist spilling out onto Skaia. All that was left was the Black King.

                For a normal set of players, this would be difficult. A twelve player session, some prototyping more than once before entry, would fuck up even the hardiest crew a little.

                But these were the people who took down Demonhead Mobster Kingpin as part of their morning escaping the office.

                And Sleuth still had a dreamself.

                “Sepulchritude!”

                The Black King was dead in five minutes flat. They ended up in front of a door, some god tiered, some not, most sick of the whole affair. Problem Sleuth opened the door to the new universe.

                They all arrived in the same old office building. The door was locked again.

                There was a moment of silence, where no long note of desolation played. It didn’t need to.

                Ace punched Sleuth in the snout, to establish a fucking waste of time.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to write a full PS SBURB session one day but for now, all we get is the worst seer in the world.


End file.
